


Pulse-pounding Sparkling Grail War Adventure

by KiramekiSparkle



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Character Interpretation, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, Holy Grail War (Fate), Misunderstandings, Mystery, Original Character(s), Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-01-31 13:17:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21446824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiramekiSparkle/pseuds/KiramekiSparkle
Summary: An original Grail War. The city of Kingston, a settlement that thrived through centuries and also one of the Mage's Association's few footholds in the two Americas. Here is where the Grail manifests, and here is where our story begins.Placeholder Title. Just call it Dokidoki Kirakira Grail War if you have to. Unfortunately, Marie Antoinette isn't part of this fic.The working title is an inside joke (ドキドキキラキラ女神LOVE聖杯戦争大冒険).Crossposted from fanfiction.net





	1. Advent

The city of pearls, Kingston. Now a sprawling hub of commerce and trade, this settlement on the western coast of North America had its humble beginnings as a fishing town in the late nineteenth century. After the two World Wars, Kingston saw a spike in immigration as people of all ethnicities flocked to the city for the promise of opportunity and built communities that blossomed into the ornate cultural centres that have lasted to the present day.

One of the relics from that era is Saint Martin Secondary School. The schoolhouse had been torn down and rebuilt several times, but outside of those few years of interruption, the campus in the Saint Martin neighbourhood on the intersection of Saint Martin Street and 49th is a constant in the city of Kingston. In fact, the institution has been there long enough that no one truly knows which came first, the school or the street.

Strangely enough, the neighbourhood around the school has always been residential despite being nestled deep within the center of Kingston. There have been petitions to urbanize the area, though every proposal fell through. The end result is a gated suburban paradise nestled within a busy metropolitan cityscape. In such a setting is where our story begins.

In the season where cherry blossom petals flutter through the air, a girl dressed in the signature grey and maroon uniform of Saint Martin Secondary gazes off into the distance by the ornate fountain in front of the school. What could she be thinking of? Is it love? Is it friendship? Is it something to do with the trials and tribulations that this coming school year could bring? Who knows?

As it turns out, she had been waiting for someone. An Asian dressed in a white button-up and faded jeans approaches the girl, who waves at him from her wheelchair.

The young man's sleeves are rolled up above the elbow, revealing the firm arms of a marble statue. Slightly softened by wear, his shirt collar is left open with the top three buttons undone, revealing a jade coin pendant on a red string around the man's neck. This Eastern Adonis wears his long black hair in a low ponytail that rests on his shoulder, only just long enough to hang over his breast pocket. He can't be any older than his early twenties, still young enough to have some boyish features and just old enough for the light of prime to shine through.

"Miss Victoria, I regret to inform you that your appointment with Doctor Stevens must wait another hour. It seems he is running late today," he says.

"It's fine, I understand. Being a doctor must have its own difficulties," replies Victoria. "Lancer, is it alright if we stop by the cafe over on the 54th?"

"As you wish."

With the young lady's permission, the gentleman pushes her wheelchair as she begins recounting her school adventures to him. Such is life for the pair in the last few days. Not quite strangers. Not quite warmed up to each other either. Not quite a master, not quite a servant.

But this story isn't about the two of them… or more accurately, this story isn't _only _about the two of them.

Just out of earshot, a youth also wearing a St Martin's uniform reaches his hand into the coin return slot of an old vending machine to find two dollars in change.

"Huh. Free drinks," he remarks as he uses his newfound wealth to purchase an iced tea, which he stows away in his backpack for later. Putting on a pair of headphones and picking up a few stones he seems to take a fancy to, the boy continues on his way.

With messy long black hair and a pale grey hoodie under his uniform jacket, he looks like the average teenager in Kingston. He is a student from a respectable school in a very peaceful neighbourhood, most likely someone with decent grades and alright future prospects — regardless of having spent most of their classes daydreaming and most of their free time doing anything other than their homework.

And people who are under that impression that would have missed the mark, yet they wouldn't be entirely wrong either.

His grades are just high enough to meet the standards of St Martin's and avoid expulsion. While other teenagers try to disguise their disinterest in school, this one makes no attempt to hide the fact that his mind isn't all present during lessons. When asked about anything beyond a week into the future, he always drops a variation of his usual reply, "I'll figure it out when it happens, I guess." To sum up his character, he's someone who has given up on their future prospects and become complacent with living with what little is available at hand.

On the other hand, if someone were to ask the young man himself as to why he lives life the way he does, he'd respond with a scathing diatribe on the state of society and how the world has gone mad. He'd claim that there's no point in getting a good education since people listen to the charismatic, not the learned. That there's no point in obtaining a business degree because all you need for a business is capital and a shriveled black heart. That there's no point in reaching for success when high status comes with a host of people who will drag you back down. The teenager would grumble pessimistically until he arrives at the end of his rant where he sighs and says with a smile, "But this life I'm living, this environment around me... it's not so bad either."

At the end of the day, in spite of all his complaining, he still cares a lot more than he would like to admit. He smiles and greets the elderly, who were stayed behind in Kingston while their children left to seek fortune elsewhere. He thanks the drivers who service the bus routes in the city, no matter how late they are. And even if the young man is a student who eats lunch with a different social circle each day, he makes an effort to remember everybody's names.

To be unable to decide if you love the world or if you hate it. To be unsure of where to go in the future, yet hide it behind a mask of indifference. This is the crossroads of life known as _youth _.

It is this sort of not-quite-ordinary teenager that we follow for our story. A strapping young lad half-way through his sixteenth year of life. From another point of view, he can be seen as someone nearing their expiry date as protagonist material with no worlds saved, epic battles, or magical girlfriends. Just one of many people in this world, going through the motions and meandering through life. Typical but also atypical. Then again, if every individual is unique to a degree, what is the point in drawing a line between normal and abnormal?

Arriving at the base of a hotel in the downtown core, the highschooler looks up at the building and sighs. The Shangri-La. There are probably a hundred or more hotels around the world bearing that name and likely not even under the same company at that. With the lobby being made of glass and marble, one would assume the average person can only dream of living in one of the suites at the Kingston Shangri-La.

Truthfully, the youth would prefer not having to go downtown and confront the reality of his personal financial situation. Be that as it may, it can't be helped if he has been summoned personally. To a luxury penthouse and every day for the past week no less.

"Young man, are you not heading in?" asks a somewhat familiar magenta-haired woman with what seems to be a metal mailing tube slung over her shoulder.

To which the young man in question replies, "... Right."

Without any more words exchanged, they approach the front desk, check out the elevator key and get on their way to the top floor. A painfully silent ride. Neither party has words to say, and neither party is willing to get to know the other either. After all, their alliance together is temporary at best.

As soon as they arrive at the extravagant penthouse suite on the sixty-second floor, a golden-haired teenager greets them cheerfully, "_Salut_, Mademoiselle McRemitz, Monsieur Szeto! Come quickly, our meeting will begin shortly."

The two arrivals only nod in acknowledgement allowing the teenager to lead them into the living room where a young woman lounges on the couch reading a firearms catalogue. The lady's hair is a dirty blonde in contrast to the smiling boy's vibrant gold locks. Clad in taupe cargo pants and a grey t-shirt under her flight jacket, she dresses like she shops at a military surplus store. Neither McRemitz or Szeto know who the girl is, only _what_ she is.

Szeto clicks his tongue, "Hey, Elizabeth. I get it. You summoned some spunky blonde girl as your Servant. You don't have to bring her everywhere like it's show-and-tell."

"My name is Jean-Paul Élisabeth Pierre Laurent-Thomas," the blond corrects Szeto. "And I _will _have you know that I most certainly did _not_ summon… what did you say… _some spunky blonde girl_ as my Servant. My Archer is Her Imperial and Royal Majesty Napoleon Bonaparte."

Without looking up from her magazine, Archer comments, "I wasn't Napoleon yesterday when you introduced me, and I'm still not Napoleon today. Maybe we can try again tomorrow? But if you ask me, I think the result is going to be the same."

"She's Napoleon, I'm sure of it," insists Archer's Master.

Before the conversation could progress any further, the owner of the hotel suite enters the room. "Welcome fellow Masters. I'm glad to see we number no fewer than last we met—"

"Your words don't interest me, Englishman. Make it brief," interrupts Archer.

The host purses his lips before continuing. "Of course. As was agreed beforehand, the order the four of us summon our Servants in is first I, then Laurent-Thomas—"

"_Excusez-moi_, Monsieur Irving," objects Jean-Paul. "I must insist in the cases where only my surname is used, that you append the title of baron. I understand we are operating as an alliance, but it simply will not do to forget such a thing... or have you done so on purpose to provoke a reaction from me?"

Once again, Irving purses his lips. "Of course not. My apologies, Baron Laurent-Thomas. As I was saying, according to the order we agreed on, after the baron are McRemitz, and Szeto—"

This time, it is McRemitz who cuts the Englishman off. "Caster. I summoned a Caster."

Szeto freezes. Considering what he will be using as a catalyst, striking the Caster Class from the list of possible Servants is a death sentence. So far Irving's Saber, the baron's Archer, McRemitz's Caster, and a mystery Rider have been summoned.

The Rider most likely belongs to a Master who is unaffiliated with the Clock Tower. No one in this alliance had heard anything about the Association sending another competitor. As this outsider is in command of Rider, the class renowned for their Noble Phantasms, it stands to reason that the first move of this alliance of Clock Tower magi should be to target Rider's faction.

Nobody has seen Irving's Saber before, which is a good move on the Englishman's part. At least in Szeto's eyes, it is pretty obvious that with the positions that each Master has in the hierarchy at the Clock Tower, Irving is being put on a pedestal above the rest of the Clock Tower's Masters.

Regarding Archer, the unspoken agreement amongst the individuals in the penthouse who are not named Jean-Paul Élisabeth Pierre Laurent-Thomas is that the girl resting her combat boots on the coffee table is most definitely and absolutely not Napoleon Bonaparte.

As for Caster, there is nothing much else to say other than they were summoned, and only McRemitz knows what they look like.

"... Are there any developments regarding the War that we need to share? No? Then our meeting is adjourned. Please. Show yourselves out," hisses Irving through gritted teeth.

The meeting ended as swiftly as it began. Standing in the hotel lobby, the visitors look at each other. Szeto clears his throat, "You know, I figured that none of us liked the guy to begin with, but aren't we pushing him too far? Now he's _definitely _going to kill us all once this alliance becomes unfavorable for him."

All three of the Masters subordinate to Irving have reasons for disliking the Englishman, ranging from being indebted to him to having been recently forced into a poor business deal by him. As such, the trio were more than ready to throw fuel into the proverbial fire as soon as Archer had started it.

The military surplus model snorts, "With what? His dinky Saber Servant?"

Jean-Paul looks slightly uncomfortable as he tries to explain the concept of classes to Archer, "Napoleon, we are still dealing with a _Saber _. While I also do not like Monsieur Irving very much either, I feel that dismissing his Servant as _just _a Saber is a mistake."

The fact that a Servant of such high status would be willing to let someone address them by first name is a wonder. Then again, the Servant in question does seem quite different from what one would expect of a Heroic Spirit.

"I don't give a rat's ass about that. God didn't side with Englishmen in my day, and I don't believe God will side with them now either."

Ah, at least she's made it quite clear that she's French.

Turning to Szeto, Jean-Paul claps him on the back, "Anyways, that's tough luck for you, Monsieur Carter Szeto. Only Lancer, Assassin, and Berserker are left, yes? My condolences. Quite unfortunate really. Born with good Circuits, yet living with abysmal luck. Your Mystic Eyes are of a relatively useless type and you aren't in line to inherit your family's Crest. Truly unfortunate, unlike I, Jean-Paul Élisabeth Pierre Laurent-Thomas, heir to the Laurent-Thomas barony, magecraft, and fortune. Even so, not everything is for naught. I believe in you and your ability to seek further heights. After all, every genius rises from the mundane, and every fortune starts from a single franc."

Of course, the French don't use francs anymore, but Carter doesn't feel like pointing it out to the fake Frenchman.

"I do wish you best of luck, even if you cannot summon a powerful servant like Napoleon. Ah, would the two of you like to join Archer and I for supper? I know of an absolutely wonderful establishment—"

"Declined. Sorry Elizabeth, I'm going to enjoy my last dinner by myself."

It seems as if Jean-Paul has yet to figure out why people don't like him.

"Mais enfin! I believe I just mentioned my full name, Monsieur Szeto! Jean-Paul Élisabeth Pierre Laurent-Thomas! At least use Jean-Paul or Pierre if you're going to shorten it!"

The fake Frenchman's protest is left unheard as Carter had already left. So had McRemitz, coincidentally.

* * *

Inside a small Chinese restaurant named TB Café, Carter enjoys what might be his final meal, at least by his reckoning.

Curry and beef brisket on rice. A simple dish, though out of all the restaurants in Kingston, Carter enjoys the more homely flavors that TB Café offers. The chef here bakes their potatoes before adding them into the curry. Baking the potato chunks forms a skin keeps it from dissolving completely in the curry, which prevents the dish from gaining a more starchy flavor from the potatoes dissolved.

As the highschooler savours his dinner, a clean shaven European wearing a navy peacoat enters the café. The stranger looks to be a fairly handsome fellow in his mid-twenties, yet at the same time unremarkable and bland. He has a face that would fade into the crowd as one of the many handsome blonde men in the city.

Noticing the stranger heading towards Carter's booth, the highschooler acknowledges him with a curt nod, "Hello there."

"Mister Szeto," the newcomer returns the greeting as he takes a seat across from the young magus. "Good day."

While Carter does not recognize the stranger, it seems the stranger in question at least knows who Carter is: a Master candidate. Likewise, the highschooler can tell that there's something off about the man before him. Instinctively, the magus checks the wrap on his left hand, only to find that his Command Spells are still concealed. Whether the lotus-shaped markings are visible or not shouldn't matter however. If one knows what they are looking for, identifying a Master is an easy task.

"Participating in the Holy Grail War, yes?" asks the European. "My name is Manfred and I have come today representing Rider's faction."

Immediately, the gravity of the situation sinks in for the teenager. The adult across the table has the same presence as some of the magi at the Clock Tower, meaning that despite his attempt to blend into society, Manfred doesn't seem to quite fit the bill. An apt comparison would be like spotting a crow mingling with a flock of gulls. He most definitely isn't just a no-name representing Rider's faction. That much is obvious from the slight haze around him.

The gentleman clasps his hands together and puts them on the table where Carter can see them. "Be at ease. You have my word that no harm shall come to you during our meeting. I would like to propose an alliance."

"If you've come here knowing who I am, you must already know who I'm allied with. Are you sure whoever sent you knows what this means?"

Carter refuses to meet the man's eyes, occupying his vision with the gentleman's hands instead. It is very clear that the highschooler isn't the sort who enjoys conversations with strangers. The thought of Rider's faction deeming Carter important enough to negotiate with chips away at the young man's confidence. After all, this means he is important enough as an asset for others to seriously take note of, and that is something the young man had not prepared for. Also, despite the European promising not to kill Carter, there's always the possibility that this promise would be broken now that Carter has nowhere to run. Humanity isn't known for being kind and courteous in times of war.

"Naturally. It is because we believe you to be the most likely Master to accept our offer. Out of the four magi enlisted by the Mage's Association, you are the weakest and least remarkable. This means once all the outsiders have been eliminated, you will be the first to die, and at the hands of allies no less. Surely, you have already considered that possibility?" Manfred explains. "As such, I believe it would be to our mutual benefit to join forces."

Cautiously, the teenager poses a question to the blond man, "Hypothetically, if we were to join forces, what would your plan be then?"

"You will be our inside man in this War and provide us with information on each of the Clock Tower's Masters as well as advance notice on any movements they make. Together, we create opportunities to eliminate each of the other Masters. As for what you receive from this alliance, I can guarantee that my faction will come to your aid in the event they discover your betrayal. I do not believe you are in a position to ask for more than that."

Carter doesn't give his reply just yet. If he accepts this offer and his allies hear of it, he might not have to wait for everyone outside of his alliance to be eliminated before being disposed of. That's praying that whoever he summons tonight doesn't kill him first. Given the catalyst his family provided him, the latter is much more likely.

Even so, the offer tempts Carter. In the event no party finds out about his deal with Manfred and assuming Carter's Servant decides to cooperate, all that is left to do is ensure that the other two other outsiders are dealt with. After that, turning against the Mage's Association Masters should be easy, provided Carter makes sure to isolate each member first before picking them off. The alliance had never been that stable in the first place.

Alexander Irving has a decent amount of support behind him. That itself isn't much of a reason to dislike him. However, the Englishman also has a pretty rotten attitude when it comes to dealing with people with lower status. It is plain as day that the side he shows his allies is a facade. Turning the other members of the alliance against Irving would not be too difficult a task.

McRemitz is an Enforcer, so she would be an exceedingly difficult opponent to fight alone. This danger is even greater when accounting for the unknown Caster that she is contracted with. Carter himself doesn't have any qualms about getting rid of the Irishwoman. They only met recently and barely spoke anyways.

As for Jean-Paul… Carter would feel bad about killing an upper class twit who has yet to fully grasp what he's getting into. At the same time, the fake Frenchman would not be missed very much.

The young magus pauses. It disturbs him that his first thoughts after receiving this offer from the Rider faction are thoughts about eliminating his allies. Then again, these "allies" are probably plotting to kill Carter all the same. But before all that, there's always the chance that German would simply have Carter killed after he's given up every morsel of information he has.

Noticing that the younger man is seriously considering his offer, Manfred takes his leave. "My apologies for interrupting your dinner. I understand this is a difficult decision to make. Please do take your time. Unfortunately, I can only spare you three nights to decide. Have a nice day." — he turns back towards Carter — "One last thing. Do not come looking for me. I will come looking for you when the time comes."

There's no way Manfred wouldn't know that Carter has yet to summon a Servant. Anyone versed in magecraft can tell if a Master has a Servant contracted since the magus would leak mana like mad… So why would their faction still choose to offer an alliance if that were the case?

An odd thought comes across the young man's mind. _Perhaps the Master of Rider is an idiot like a certain Elizabeth?_

He shakes his head and beckons for the waitress, "Miss, check please."

Finishing the remainder of his milk tea, Carter pays the bill and leaves a generous tip. He absentmindedly takes detours on his way home, flexing his fingers and holding them up to the sun as he meanders around the suburbs.

Passerby occasionally notice the dark-haired highschooler from across the street, giving him a second glance before writing him off as just another teenager with some wild fantasies going off in his head. While Carter _is _of that age and _does _indeed have such outlandish thoughts in his head at times, today isn't one of those days.

Dipping down to his left, Carter picks up a small stone and bounces it in his palm as he continues on his leisurely promenade. Despite the monumental task of fighting in a Holy Grail War that awaits him, he shows no sign of unease, simply deciding that it's too late to burden oneself with worries.

"Worst comes to worst, I'll simply grovel at the feet of whomever I summon."

The art of summoning itself has never been Carter Szeto's forte. Neither has the art of magecraft in general. The art of grovelling however...

That aside, the young man might be a Master in the Grail War and he most definitely is one of the least prepared ones, but by no means is he actually meant to emerge victorious. but when the Irvings "requested" that the Situ Clan send a candidate to Kingston, the patriarch refused to send one from his immediate family, deciding instead to send a disposable branch family child. With Carter's remarkable Magic Circuit quality and quantity, only someone within the clan would have realized that this course of action was not simply to keep the heiress safe, but to prune a withered branch from the family tree.

Owing to the fact that the disgraced branch family that Carter hails from hadn't seen a proper magus in four generations, as well as the fact that the main branch cut off relations to the point of stripping their surname from the fallen branch, Carter had little formal training in magecraft which limited his repertoire of spells to what he could teach himself. A crying shame, seeing as he has the makings of a more-than-decent magus and would have been well-loved by any other family. When the Asian finally met other magi his age, he tried to interact with them and discuss theory but was only shunned in response.

With a flick of his wrist, Carter throws the rock he had been holding onto at the ground. The instant the stone left the youth's hand, a series of small magic circles appeared in the path of his throw. A rune glows on the pebble as it flies through the air, accelerating as it passes through each formation, ricocheting at an impossible angle once it touches the circle on the asphalt. Not even a second later, a deafening crack rings through the street and a bird drops dead from one of the nearby trees.

The reason Carter Szeto's peers avoided him is this. Because no one would teach him anything, the young magus consumed any knowledge he could get his hands on. He learned to perform almost all spells below a certain difficulty. As for those beyond his current level or restricted to practitioners from certain bloodlines, he would cobble together frameworks and theories from different systems in an attempt to recreate them. If magecraft is an imitation of Mystery, Carter's magecraft is an imitation that imitation.

The dark-haired youth makes his way to the dead bird, examining the grotesque corpse. It is clear to him that this bird wasn't alive to begin with — or at least it wasn't alive when he used his runes on it, judging by the amount of inorganic parts. A familiar belonging to another magus, no doubt. To Carter's knowledge, this isn't something anyone from his faction would cook up.

Reaching into his school bag and tearing off a corner from a handout dated last year, the teenager scribbles a short memo before dropping it into a tiny cloth pouch. Taking a deep breath, he summons his messenger with a loud whistle.

A feathery black friend of his dives down from the sky, and makes himself comfortable on Carter's shoulder. People usually joke about being paid in peanuts, though in Carter's eyes it doesn't seem to be a problem if the employee actually prefers it that way. Satisfied with his pay, the crow picks up the pouch and flies away in the direction of Alexander Irving's suite. What the Englishman chooses to do with the warning doesn't concern Carter. After all, the young man is just a sacrificial pawn in this war.

"_Ansuz_," he mutters, noticing the festering corpse had been completely ignored by the messenger crow, he set the body on fire. "I suppose even scavengers have standards."

* * *

Since the Irvings managed to provide their representative with a state of the art workshop, it was only natural the Situs provide one for theirs. In the Saint Martin neighbourhood, the Situs purchased a luxury apartment about a ten minute walk from the school that the suburbs were named after. Being outfitted to suit the needs of any practitioner of the Situ magecraft, the apartment given to Carter is nothing to scoff at. Of course, most of the equipment prepared is far beyond the teenager's ability to use. A cruel joke.

In the two bedroom apartment, the south bedroom and its accompanying facilities were traded for a workshop. Renovating the rooms was the hard part, and fortunately for Carter, the workshop was completed to begin with. All he did was rearrange the furniture in accordance with the principles of feng shui, install his personal equipment, top up on resources, and prepare consumables such as runestones and talismans.

The catalyst that was provided to Carter by the patriarch is none other than a scrap of the Dragon Robe of China, meaning the Servant summoned using it would more likely than not be an emperor of the Asian country. Although this particular piece of fabric dates back to at least the tenth century, there stands a decent chance that any emperor from after that era could be summoned by association. The many generations of rulers in China of the same species of volatile monarch found in every civilization; however, the more famous individuals in this category are especially known for being ruthless and calculating.

Suppose one such individual is summoned in a grail war only to be greeted with an unmotivated, serotonin deficient Master who is slightly older than a child. There would be no guarantee that the Servant wouldn't kill Carter on the spot, having decided that this war will not be worth their time. Without question, the Situ Clan's patriarch knew what he was doing when he sent Carter this catalyst. It is a white elephant for the young man, specifically meant to get him killed.

As such, the preparation and rehearsals Carter put himself through means very little. The adventure ends here if he bungles the ritual. The adventure ends here if his Servant kills him. Even if the Servant contract is completed, there is still a chance the immature magus will not be able to sustain his Servant and die after having his mana wrung dry.

In spite of that, the Asian still managed to pull himself together and dry run the procedure every day. Normally, Carter is the type of person to throw his hands up in defeat and resign himself to play it by ear on the day of. Even so, the highschooler made an effort to cradle the faint ember of hope. Hope that through this Grail War, he might find something. Something to complete himself. Something to change himself. Something to free himself.

"... Come forth from the ring of restraint, protector of the heavenly scales!" the dark-haired youth chants, struggling through the final line of the incantation as he shakes and sweats from the strain. The ritual was easier than he expected, yet still much worse than he had hoped. At least his circuits aren't burning as badly as he thought they would, but the back of his left hand, where his Command Spells are branded, itches like it had touched poison ivy.

Carter squints, shielding his face from the violent wind and searing light that fills the workshop. Not even five seconds later, the light fades away and the gale is reduced to a faint draft. Once his eyes adjusted to the candlelight, he notices the form of a young woman around his age standing in the magic circle inscribed on the hardwood floor.

The dragon's incarnation stands in all her regal grandeur, unfazed by the soft fluttering of her imperial regalia as the residual breeze caressed it. The court garments in question are woven from fine silk in the color of hydrangea blossoms and embroidered with mahogany patterns, then finished with a goldenrod trim. Under the extravagant finery is a layer lotus white, almost translucent even, a sight that evoked a sense of purity. And beneath that ethereal white, caressing the petite frame of a young woman, is a carnation pink dress.

His eyes drifting upwards, Carter looks upon his Servant's face for the first time.

Days or even weeks can be spent singing praises of the maiden's elfin features and flawless skin. A poet can write a thousand words for a hundred verses and their efforts would still be in vain as it is simply impossible to translate her beauty into words. Yet what draws the young magus' gaze is not the fairy's cherry lips or lascivious lashes, but her hair. Wisteria tresses tied in a ponytail and forelocks parted in the middle. The left drawn back to join the tail from which her violet locks flow, the right left to dangle as is. Adorning her lavender waves are several golden accessories, from brooches to hairsticks, and finally, an ornate headdress with blue tassels. As the last breaths of wind are extinguished, the Servant opens her eyes, surveying the workshop before landing her amethyst gaze on the highschool student struck dumb in awe.

Without any room for doubt, the summoning was most definitely successful. However, there is one wrinkle to iron out. The Servant called forth is not a man, but a young woman.

A woman?

Having gathered his wits, Carter's mind begins to race as he attempts to figure out the identity of his Servant. The Dragon Robe of China, being a garment that the ruling monarch wore in life, would presumably only function as a catalyst for anyone who held the post of Emperor of China. Could it be that historians are wrong and that an emperor who was recorded as a man was in actuality, a woman? After all, Jean-Paul seems pretty convinced that his Archer is actually Napoleon.

No. That's not very likely considering the fact that there are too many records that confirm the numerous past emperors as male. If the record books say the ruling monarch is a man, then they must be a man. So this narrows the Servant's identity to women who were related to the Dragon Robe.

Among the many dynasties of China, notable female monarchs are scarce. Or rather, to Carter's knowledge there was only one.

He drops to his knees, greeting the lady before him in her native tongue, "_This one who is beneath you greets the Sacred and Divine Empress Regnant._"

Kneeling is something Carter had planned from the beginning, since someone as venerated as a past ruler of China deserves no less than that. If he did not kneel his head would roll. Now that he is at a comfortable height for beheading, there are only two courses of action. Either he lives, or his Servant has an easier time separating his head from his body.

"_Oh? So even in this era, our name has not been forgotten. And fully knowing who we are, you still have the audacity summon us,_" she says coldly. Her red lips curl into a smile as she looks down at the young man. "_Amusing indeed._"

A cold chill falls on the workshop and several robed figures emerge from the shadows. From the air of hostility, it seems to Carter that the worst case has come to fruition.

His head hits the ground hard enough to leave a bruise.

"_This unintelligent one would not dare,_" he stammers, pressing his forehead into the ground. His word choice becomes even more self-deprecating words as he tries best to keep his head and torso well acquainted.

"_We expected little of this present age. Even so, we are presented with a child who not only knows of our name, but pays their respects to us. Very well, it has been determined thus: Make your case, and only then will it be decided if you are worthy of our assistance._"

Sweating profusely, he tells the Empress of his situation, starting from the main family's demands, to meeting the other Masters. As if he was force fed a truth potion, the boy gave up everything he knew. The Irving family's magecraft, Jean-Paul's Archer, McRemitz's Caster, the Rider faction's offer, and even the familiar he shot down earlier in the day.

"_What is your name?_"

"_This worthless commoner bears the surname Situ and the given name Xuan._"

"_And what do you seek from the Grail?_"

Carter pauses. By now, he has regained some sense of composure and can think properly again. He always knew it to be true, yet it is only now while he is kneeling before a monarch brought back from the depths of history that it really sets in: Depending on his answer, his life could end here. In an effort to emphasize his wish, he chooses a slightly stronger pronoun for himself.

"_What this little man wishes for is change. To overturn the future that is forced upon this body and reach forward towards a different one._"

An eerie silence settles on the workshop. Seconds drag on to minutes and minutes to hours. The grain in the hardwood floor has become all too familiar to Carter.

"_Interesting. We have decided that your journey will be worthwhile. Our pact is sealed. Situ Xuan, raise your head,_" the Sacred and Divine Empress Regnant declares. "We shall deign to speak your language for you have honored us in ours. Assassin, Wu Zetian. As long as we find you to be entertaining, we shall allow you to serve us."

* * *

**Profiles**

**Saber**

**Master: **Alexander Irving  
**True Name: **"[Irving's] dinky Saber Servant"  
**Gender:** ?  
**Height/Weight: **?  
**Parameters:**  
?  
**Class Skills:**  
?  
**Personal Skills:**  
?  
**Noble Phantasms:**  
?  
**Carter's Notes:**  
I haven't met them yet.  
Irving hasn't said much about his Servant either.

**Archer**

**Master:** Jean-Paul Élisabeth Pierre Laurent-Thomas  
**True Name:** Napoleon?  
**Gender:** Female  
**Height/Weight:** 159 cm, 44 kg  
**Parameters:**  
Strength B  
Endurance C  
Agility A  
Mana B  
Luck C  
Noble Phantasm B  
**Class Skills:**  
?  
**Personal Skills:**  
?  
**Noble Phantasms:**  
?  
**Carter's Notes:**  
Spunky blonde girl. Looks to be about 19 years of age.  
I don't think she's Napoleon, but she sure as hell is French if her dislike for Englishmen is anything to go by.

**Caster**

**Master: **Bazett Fraga McRemitz  
**True Name: **?  
**Gender:** ?  
**Height/Weight: **?  
**Parameters:**  
?  
**Class Skills:**  
?  
**Personal Skills:**  
?  
**Noble Phantasms:**  
?  
**Carter's Notes:**  
I haven't met them yet.

**Assassin**

**Master: **Carter Szeto (Situ Xuan)  
**True Name: **Wu Zetian  
**Gender:** Female  
**Height/Weight:** 150 cm, 45 kg  
**Parameters:**  
Strength D  
Endurance E  
Agility A  
Mana B  
Luck A  
Noble Phantasm B  
**Class Skills:**  
?  
**Personal Skills:**  
?  
**Noble Phantasms:**  
?  
**Carter's Notes:**  
Petite, purple-hair. Probably 15 years of age.  
It seems she would have preferred it if she were summoned younger. I probably messed something up during the summoning. Well, it can't be helped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Classical Chinese, individuals avoid using "I/me" and tend to use third-person descriptors when talking about themselves. Particularly, when speaking to someone of higher standing, one favours using more self-depreciating words as a sign of humility. These third-person descriptors are often two characters long; however, as you can see in this chapter, translating them to English makes the sentence feel slightly chunky.
> 
> The Servant profiles will only be posted in chapters we learn something new about a Servant. The "Notes" section of the profile will be written by different characters at times, so if you enjoy little throwaway tidbits about the story, please remember to read them.


	2. Negotiation

While Carter Szeto had been returning home so merrily last evening, a different Master was making his move elsewhere in Kingston. His setting of choice is MacLean Park, a thousand acres of land dedicated to the use and enjoyment of people of all ethnicities, beliefs, and traditions for all time. Or so the government had proclaimed over one hundred and fifty years ago.

"Yet you shall serve with your eyes clouded by chaos."

Reality at the time was nothing close to such a grand ideal. Unbeknownst to the wider public, the park was created under the influence of the Mage's Association to secure the precious ley lines in the area. Many families who were already settled there had been forcibly removed, their properties burned, their livestock slaughtered. Inexcusable injustices are a constant across all eras, only a footnote in their respective parts of history; however, it is precisely because the records of such an event are carved into the soil that makes MacLean Park such an ideal choice for this Master-to-be.

"For you would be one caged in madness and I shall wield your chains."

Standing before a circle drawn in blood, the European magus continues his ritual. His relaxed posture betrays his disinterest, as if he already knew the result and this ceremony is only a prerequisite step that he needed to take.

Earlier in the night, the foreigner had planted three corpses in the national park. Procuring the bodies had been no easy task. His materials needed to be as fresh as possible, preferably before rigor mortis sets in. As for where he placed the cadavers, each location held a certain importance only the disheveled magus's mind could comprehend.

The first lies on the grounds where an Asian household once lived, the family of four having never been seen again after their home burnt down as a result of arson. The father's last spell still stains the fallow earth to this day, a futile effort to save his beloved wife and his two young children.

The second in a hollow tree, a famous attraction at the park. They say it was a meeting place protected by a sacred truce, as the giant cedar would have served as a landmark for travellers along the coast. A sanctuary with not a single incident for centuries, now tarnished by the exsanguinated body left inside the tree trunk.

The third hangs from a pine at the military's island garrison. From its oldest roots as a historic battleground to its early modern past as a cemetery for the native tribes, death clung to every chapter of the island's history. It is said that if one were to explore the island before dawn, they would hear the whispers of the dead bemoaning the desecration of their graves.

The magus' extensive preparations have eliminated every variable in the ritual. His performance tonight is simply going through the motions for an outcome that is as good as guaranteed.

"From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power."

On the makeshift altar, a set of rusted manacles seem to draw in violet wisps of smoke as they drift into the clearing from the directions of the three corpses. Sure enough, the European had indeed chosen MacLean Park not for the ley lines, but for the residual curses that still permeate the land. His desired class of Servant is Berserker, and he will settle for nothing less. Under these conditions, even the most noble Heroic Spirit would be twisted by the ritual.

"Come forth from the ring of restraint, protector of the heavenly scales!"

A column of fire erupts from the center of the formation. Flames of crimson and silver surged forth, hungrily consuming the surrounding grass. The inferno scorches the clearing with such malice that even the soil is rendered infertile. Like a candle being blown out, the firestorm vanishes, leaving nothing but an eerie halo of moonlight cutting through the harrowing darkness. Illuminated from behind by the cold white beam, the silhouette of a tall shackled figure stands atop the altar.

The magus' eyes light up upon seeing the chained warrior and he takes a deep breath, savouring the breath of smoke even as his lungs cried in pain. He cracks a smile, evidently having found something funny about the situation before him, "Victory is already in my hands."

In a voice devoid of emotion, the Servant asks their Master a question.

"What have you done?"

* * *

After their contract had been established, Assassin and her Master spent several hours discussing matters relating to the Grail War. From the various hotspots for ley line activity within Kingston to the benefits of technological innovations after the sixth century, the pair had no shortage of topics to cover. Whenever the conversation began to stall, Assassin would always have a question or a prompt to keep the dialogue moving.

To Carter's surprise, it seems like learning of the modern world is something that entertains the young empress. The many modern depictions of Wu Zetian often frame her in a negative light, painting her as a power hungry tyrant who ruled the Tang Empire with an iron fist. As such, the youthful empress before Carter stands in stark contrast to her historical description. Of course if one were to examine this case from a more critical perspective, this difference could very well be due to the embellishment and commentary of the multitude of individuals who retold history across the centuries.

In any case, Carter imagines very few historical figures would find depictions of their lives to be flattering, even in the case that they were truthful. As such, the highschooler makes an oath to never mention anything of that sort, not even accidentally.

On the other side of the conversation, despite Carter's best efforts to hide it, Assassin had quickly pieced together that her Master is a rather laid-back sort of fellow. He appears to be the type of young man who looks at an impending deadline, only to decide that tomorrow's problems can be solved when tomorrow comes. It doesn't take much to conclude that a Master with such a philosophy is a poor match for… most Servants, really.

But that matters very little to the young woman. Like playing a game of _xiangqi _short a piece, such a disadvantage is concerning, but by no means is it a guaranteed loss. Combination of strategy, daring, and good fortune is more than enough to compensate. In the Holy Grail War, Servants cannot choose the hand they are dealt. What they can choose is how to play their cards.

"So tell us, why is it that you insist on attending classes? The merits of a good education are not lost on us, and we find dedication to academic study to be a trait worthy of praise," inquires Assassin, raising an eyebrow at her Master's unusual priorities. Still wearing her heavy court robes, she had already since made the Eames chair in the living room her personal throne. "However, we do not understand why one would prioritize education over their preparations for the Holy Grail War. Surely, there must be a better use for your time?"

Carter pauses, "I can neither claim to study with zeal, nor claim to hold a flawless attendance record. My purpose for attending school is not so much for academic purposes as it is for giving opponents more trouble when they attempt to eliminate me."

"Do elaborate."

"Magi prize secrecy above all else. By way of having social connections with the community, I can make covering up my disappearance an even more tedious task than it already is in the modern era."

"Thus making it an implicit threat to the other magi and their mysteries. How shrewd," comments the empress, the corner of her mouth curling into a smirk. "With such conditions, having you vanish without suspicion would be rather difficult. However, we would like to point out that this precaution is merely a form of deterrence. Any opponent who genuinely wishes to end you would not allow themselves to be hampered by such things."

"With all due respect, Your Highness, this is where our cooperation comes into play. Though the chance of injury and death is not zero, I believe that our combined efforts are more than enough to—"

"You overstep your bounds, Situ Xuan. It seems you are under the impression that we will offer you our assistance on your call. You are gravely mistaken," Assassin asserts. The purple-haired girl crosses her arms, staring at Carter through narrowed eyes.

In response the teenager prostrates himself once again, pressing his forehead into the ground. "Forgive me, I must be insane to have uttered such nonsense."

"The relationship between us may be that of Master and Servant… but as for who is the lord and who is the vassal, we believe you know the answer already. So tell us. Why should we offer you our assistance?"

"With my neck at stake, I pray that my explanation is to your liking," Carter says, pushing himself up off of his hands. Even if his head is still bowed, it is pretty obvious that he had thrown himself to the ground with enough force to leave a red mark on his forehead. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he makes his case, "Despite the slander and libel that the many successive generations after the Sacred and Divine Empress have used to tarnish her name, one only needs to look at her accomplishments in life to understand that she must have been a benevolent and well-learned ruler. Surely one as wise as she would grant her subordinates a chance to prove themselves worthy of serving her?"

Now that two other factions have taken note of him, it is clear as day to the teenager that he won't meet a clean end if he doesn't get Assassin's cooperation. But a very likely death is still marginally better than a certain death.

A long silence falls over the room. The curiosity having gotten the better of him, Carter raises his head slowly.

"... Benevolent… wise…" Assassin looks away from the boy, muttering something with a rosy tint to her cheeks. She crosses her arms and looks at him from the corner of her eyes, "Hmph. C-consider yourself lucky that I'm in a good mood today, silver-tongued brat."

Ah. She broke character.

The Master of Assassin only stares back with a look of disbelief, and the thoughts running behind those dark eyes are almost readable off of his expression. _What kind of empress gets flustered at a word or two of praise? Did I get the wrong Servant?! Hello, Mister Holy Grail, I'm calling about the summoning ritual several hours ago. I think there's been a mistake in my order and I'd like a refund._

Regaining her composure, Assassin snaps her fingers, and three pale figures materialize out of purple smoke. The young empress procures a small bronze token from her sleeve and hands it to one of the three attendants.

"Rise, Situ Xuan — No, on second thought, get back on your knees, your head is too high," the empress orders.

Carter sheepishly kneels down again.

"Do not be mistaken. We _have not_ approved of you as a Master. We _do not_ believe you are worthy of our assistance. A-at least not yet. It is indeed as you say, I am a benevolent and wise ruler. As such, I shall place these three officers under your command," Assassin says, breaking character yet again. "These are the Kùlì, inquisitors who stained their hands with blood so that good citizens of the nation could live in peace. Whether you command them to kidnap, torture, assassinate, or survey, they will follow your orders as long as you hold that tablet. Perhaps after you show me what you are capable of, Situ Xuan, you will be in a better position to negotiate. You are dismissed."

* * *

The three Kùlì under Carter Szeto's charge have less personality than some homunculi, that much he is sure of. They answer questions when asked, but do not speak otherwise. Their answers are also limited to truths and untruths as the purple wraiths are incapable of forming their own opinions. With pale grey hair and corpse like skin, they are truly the representation of every person's deepest fears: Officers from the underworld, bearing a warrant with their name on it.

A tall eunuch in his prime, a lean guardsman in his forties, and a handmaiden who looks only slightly older than Carter himself. These three revenants, along with the rest of Assassin's familiars, must have been based on not the historical inquisitors, but on a larger group that included the individuals who served her. Their roles are simple. The eunuch acts as liaison between Carter and Assassin, while the guard and maid simply monitor the neighbourhood for possible threats.

Always the pessimist, Carter handed the eunuch a container engraved with runes, ordering him to salvage his Mystic Eyes, his Command Spells, and whatever remains of the Magic Circuits on his back in the case of his death. The setup in his workshop should be enough to keep Assassin around until she could contact Caster. With regards to what happens next, it won't be any of the teenager's business since he'll have fulfilled his duty as a Master and be resting in peace or pieces.

"Hey. Boss."

Carter looks up from his desk. "What?"

"Class ended a while back and I was wondering when you'd wake up. You said we were going to pick up that magic thingy today."

Trying to get the Master of Assassin's attention is a tall girl wearing the same uniform as him. No matter how you crunch the numbers, an Asian teenager standing six foot five is an unusual sight. Her grey hair is styled in a fade maintained with weekly haircuts and her ears are pierced, four studs on the right, one on the left. As one would expect, the giantess is widely admired by the student body for her looks, although once anyone learns of her terminal naivete, such sentiments fly out the window.

"Alright Beanpole, let's get going," sighs the shorter of the two.

As for how Juliana Guo, or Beanpole as Carter calls her, is related to the world of magecraft, she simply just _is_. Perhaps she hails from a family that had long since stopped pursuing the art. Or perhaps she is like Carter himself, a miracle child from a bloodline whose magecraft talent had run dry.

No matter what the situation might be, Carter supposes it would be better to let her stick around. If Juliana is going to commit some sort of taboo, it's better if she does so where Carter can stop her. It is less that the girl is lacking in common sense and more that she has a rather poor grasp on how the mundane world works. That being said, she likely hasn't the slightest idea about how the world of magi works either.

Without any more words, the two make their way to the Student Government office where a cheerful blonde waves them over. "Hey Carter! Hello Jules. I thought the two of you would come by just about now."

Juliana returns the greeting enthusiastically while Carter only clicks his tongue in response.

The Minister of Finance on Kingston Secondary's Student Cabinet, Natalie Lu. She is the one student the administrating staff at St Martin's absolutely dread negotiating with. Unfortunately for them, they have to deal with the money-grubbing cabinet minister for three more years. However, from the moment that the bubbly blonde stepped into office as the new finance minister, Carter found it quite evident that she simply won the poorly disguised popularity contest known as the Student Government elections.

His fellow students at St Martin's seem to be completely blind to Natalie's shrewd nature, being instead led to believe that she is a stereotypical airhead. Talent in business wasn't factored into any voter's decision. On the other hand, Juliana sees Natalie as the nice lady who gives her candy… That statement says more about the grey-haired giantess than anything.

The blonde waltzes over to the locker in the back of the room to retrieve a wooden case. "Here you are! I figured I should get your order to you as soon as it was finished," — she opens the box lined with red silk and presents it to Carter — "Right, before we start, just a quick heads-up. The PM was asking about you today at the StudentGov meeting. Probably nothing serious in nature, but he'll probably look for you if he needs to. Anywho, Grandpa says these babies are one of his favorite projects this year."

Before Carter and Juliana are a pair of solid metal _qinglong ji_, shortened to be around two feet in length. The typical halberd head found on full size variants of the weapon remains unchanged, but at this length the two might as well be a set of fancy axes. To compensate for that drawback, the two _ji_ use the open space behind the crescent blade as a second grip and also have an additional spike at the end of the shaft.

The young man beckons his companion over, who picks up one of the axes, playing with the weapon and admiring the metalwork. From the way Juliana handles the weapon, one would be forgiven for mistaking it for a lightweight prop.

The head and shaft are fitted together and secured with a peg. Coiled along the shaft between the grips is a relief carving of a Chinese dragon, while the grips themselves bear a simple diamond knurl pattern. Cut into the crescent blades of the set is a famous name. _Fang Tian Hua Ji_. Reputed to be the name of the polearm wielded by the warlord Lu Bu, it seems that Juliana thought it would be a good idea to name her pair of axes after those belonging to a legend.

Carter has doubts that Juliana has any sort of idea about what happened to Lu Bu at the end of his life.

A proud smile breaks across the finance minister's face. "Two _ji_ forged from iron, enchanted with returning charms and designed to withstand almost any sort of torture you can put it through. The axe head is removable for maintenance, and there is space to attach a plume if you feel like it."

"It's blunt? Blunter than an axe should be. You wouldn't even be able to split logs with this," says Juliana as she flips the weapon in her hand.

"No, no, no, you're supposed to channel your od through it. Treat it like an extension of your arms," the blonde says. "Yes! Exactly like that. Anyways, anything used in that manner would typically break if it wasn't reinforced beforehand. But as I said, these beauties will _probably_ take any sort of punishment you can put it through. If it ever gets damaged, I can always have it repaired for you."

The giantess furrows her brows, only understanding slightly more than she started with.

Carter picks up one of the axes, only to find that it is much too heavy for his use. Though the weapon is light enough for him to handle, he can't imagine himself actually swinging it in battle. Clearing his throat he changes the topic, "Blondie, can I ask you to include a dose of the red elixir?"

"For you? Of course. This one's on me," says Natalie as she procures a tiny glass vial from… somewhere. "However, I believe there is a certain business venture that would pique your interest…"

"So it's not on the house after all. Name your price."

She rolls her eyes. "Don't be such a downer. Think of it this way, it's an investment with profitable returns!"

"Yeah I know. You've never given me bad financial advice either. The issue here is that I won't be around to collect those returns you speak of."

The blonde throws her hands in the air. "Why'd you have to go ahead and join that silly war anyways? I was certain that with your capital and my business sense, we could have a financial empire in the future."

"It's not like I had a choice. If you wanted money, you could always talk to someone from the main branch."

"They're all sour prudes!"

"Am I just the middleman who takes the heat for you?" snaps Carter as he pulls a wad of bills from his bag and throws it on the table.

"Clever boy," says Natalie as she hands the red elixir to her customer. She clears her throat before continuing, "Don't take this elixir on an empty stomach or with any western medicines, medical warnings and such, yada yada yada. Specifically for people with mystic eyes, you may experience some malfunctions and or pain in your eyes. If such side effects persist after three hours, please consult your physician, et cetera, et cetera. Natalie Lu is not responsible for any sort of injury resulting from unintended use—."

"Yeah, I get it. It's fine, I wouldn't come after you if something did happen, and I don't think the main branch cares enough about me to pursue the issue either," sighs the young man, cutting off the finance minister, "Do you mind taking Beanpole here and giving her a place to test out the two Mystic Codes? Consider it a favor in return for my generous investment or something."

"Sure thing, dear valued customer. Still, I'm surprised you're letting Jules tag along with you for the War. Is it because it'll weigh on your consciousness if she dies?"

"I wish it were that simple. She's my contingency plan if things go south," shrugs the Master of Assassin. "So? How about you? Why stay in the city if you know what's happening? Most of the other magi seem to have evacuated. Look at all the vacations and sick leaves that everyone's been taking."

"War is a merchant's best friend... and I've also found a customer with rather deep pockets."

Carter scoffs at her statement. Glancing over at Juliana, he finds the giantess still preoccupied with her new weapons. Throwing his bag over his shoulder, he turns to leave. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a royal headache to deal with."

"Hmm? Tell me all about it. Please do."

The dark-haired boy gives the smarmy merchant a sharp glare.

"Don't worry about me, I'll probably forget all about it while I'm counting all these bills."

"I summoned Assassin. She's kind of a brat," Carter says curtly

The finance minister raises a brow. "Wow, I can't believe you would say such a thing about the Sacred and Divine Empress. Have you had enough of life already?"

The Master of Assassin freezes with one foot out the door. Taking a deep breath, he runs his fingers through his long hair.

"Damn it," he curses, returning to Natalie's table and pulling over a vacant chair. "You knew. You _knew_ who my catalyst would most likely summon and you didn't tell me."

"I had a hunch," she corrects the young man, "I had access to my uncle's documents, but didn't know for sure. Anywho, even if I was certain, would telling you have made a difference?"

With his head in his hands, Carter lets out a long sigh. "Suppose not."

"So? What about Assassin is it that puts knots in your hair?"

"When I was informed I would have the Dragon Robe of China as my catalyst, I expected to summon figures like Qianlong and Kangxi of Qing, Hongwu of Ming, Gaozu of Han, or even Qin Shi Huang himself. Even if I knew I would summon Wu Zetian, I would have expected her to be in her prime. Either from her triumphant return to the court or at the peak of her reign as regent."

Sure enough, for the Sacred and Divine Empress, her childhood was one of progress, marking the beginning of her rise to power. Her adult years were spent wielding her immense political power and ruling the nation, whether it was from behind the reigning emperor or on the Dragon Throne itself. However, the years between those two ages were largely stagnant. Neither Natalie or Carter can recall much about that phase of Assassin's life.

Intrigued, the finance minister leans over the table. "Did you, like, modify the incantation at all? How about the time at which you performed the ritual? Or perhaps it might have something to do with how you are as a magus. In the last case, it can't be helped. But I do see why you're so negative about this Holy Grail War now. Just saying, it's almost as if destiny itself is turning against you or something."

Sure enough, it really would seem as if nothing is going well for Carter. Of the three classes remaining at the time of summoning, he was left with some of the worst ones for his catalyst. As for the Assassin he succeeded in summoning, she is an irregularity in history and also somewhat obscure compared to other potential Servants related to the Dragon Robe. What little _is_ known about her had been largely buried by multiple smear campaigns and waves of ancient propaganda.

"... Boss. I don't get it. What's so important about the Holy Grail War?" asks Juliana, who had only just begun to listen in.

Without pause, Carter Szeto gives his reply, "It's a game that wealthy magi play for bragging rights."

"Carter!" chides the finance minister. "Jules, don't listen to him. The Holy Grail War is a ritual where seven magi, like, summon historical figures to do battle and the last party standing are granted a wish from the titular grail. This last bit is why there is conflict in the first place."

"So… they need an incentive to kill each other?"

Natalie pauses. "Well… no. It's less like magi murdering each other for the grail and more along the lines of death being an unfortunate but intended event that happens when two magi come into conflict."

"Committing indictable offenses is optional but highly recommended," interrupts Carter. "Since anyone who hasn't died can rejoin the fight."

"So seven people summon seven more people and everyone tries to kill everyone else over a wish," says the giantess, her brows furrowing. "Can you wish to start the war all over again?"

"Maybe? But why would you ever do that?"

"... Can I play?"

Carter packs the pair of _ji _back into their case and hands them to Juliana.

"Only after you learn to use those two axes," replies Carter. Of course, this is a lie. If the situation calls for it, Carter would send Juliana out regardless. "Blondie, I'm leaving this idiot to you."

Slinging his school bag over his shoulder, the black-haired youth takes his leave.

"Well. If anything unusual comes up, feel free to contact me. Thank you for your business, and please come again," says the greedy merchant. Watching her prized customer walk out the door, she adds, "Do me a favor and try not to die."

Of course, that's easier said than done.

* * *

**Profiles**

**Assassin**

**Master:** Carter Szeto (Situ Xuan)  
**True Name:** Wu Zetian  
**Gender: **Female  
**Height/Weight:** 150 cm, 45 kg  
**Parameters:** **  
**Strength D  
Endurance E  
Agility A  
Mana B  
Luck A  
Noble Phantasm B  
**Class Skills:** **  
**?  
**Personal Skills:** **  
**?  
**Noble Phantasms:** **  
****Kùlì?**  
**Rank:** B  
**Type:** Anti-Unit  
**Range:** 1~99  
**Maximum Number of Targets:** ?  
The Kùlì were the secret police of medieval China. Like all secret police forces, they act in the best interest of the crown, the state, and depending on the level of corruption, themselves.  
Even without the release of this Noble Phantasm’s True Name, Wu Zetian can summon as many wraiths as her mana supply allows to play the role of the Kùlì. These familiars follow her every bidding and have no free will of their own. They will attack when told to attack, they will flee when told to flee, they will observe when told to observe.  
**Carter's Notes:** **  
**I’m certain that those inquisitors have more to them than simply serving as attack drones and surveillance cameras.  
Also, guess who's supplying mana to keep those three Kùlì around? That's right! Me!


End file.
